Closing the Distance
by Ksue
Summary: Takes place during "What Lies Beneath." Rated a strong T.
1. Closing the Distance

**A/N: This is not AT ALL what I planned to write. Not at all. I had intended something less obviously shippy and more obsucre, but instead this is what came out. I'm take huge liberties here too, as you'll soon see for yourselves. None the less, I hope you all enjoy it! If you do, tell me so!**

**Also, if you haven't checked out chapter 6 of "When Your Heart Wears Thin," which was posted on Monday, go do it! :)**

Sasha grimaced as the lukewarm Scotch burned its way down his throat. The Tanner house was the last place he wanted to be, especially with Summer flitting back and forth between she loves him, she loves him not, and Payson smiling at Max. He felt the anger simmer in his chest, not because of Summer and Steve, although that was his excuse for being gruff since his return, but because Payson was his and he couldn't have her. Instead, he had to stand by and watch as Max, that little punk, danced from Payson to Lauren and back again without more than an instant's thought. Clearly Payson was the better choice, but she wasn't putting out for him and that made Lauren the easier choice. Sasha shook his head, staring into the bottom of his glass.

Payson ran by him in that instant. He knew she was crying, could see it in the way her shoulders were hunched and her head was bowed. He knew this girl…woman, inside and out, there wasn't a thing she could sneak past him.

"Payson!" he called, jogging after her. He didn't need to, she'd stopped dead in the middle of the Tanner patio and was now sobbing quietly into her hands.

"Go away, Sasha," she moaned. He moved slowly, coming up behind her until he could almost feel her loose hair against his chest, and then laid a hand on her shoulder, brushing lightly with his thumb. He felt her shudder beneath his touch and he almost groaned.

"Payson, what's wrong…love?" Sasha asked. He closed the little distance that remained between them so that they were pressed together and he wanted to weep at the rightness of it. He hadn't touched her, had hardly spoken to her, in so long it made him ache all over. Whose bloody awful idea had the distance been?

"Don't," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the tears. He brought his other hand up to her shoulder as well, and then skimmed them down the length of her arms to twine with hers. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

"Don't what?" he asked, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

"Don't call me…that."

"Why not?" His voice was even lower now, barely a murmur, but she heard him.

"Because you can't. I just…I just told Max I love him." Sasha's fingers tightened around hers and she whimpered, though he hardly noticed.

"You what?" he hissed.

"I told him…that I love him." Payson had started to cry again and Sasha briefly wondered why. Then he realized.

"He didn't say it back?" Sasha guessed. She shook her head, sending waves of vanilla his way. He smiled faintly at the scent of her shampoo and then let his smile fade. "But you do, love him?"

She was still and silent for a long time. The only sounds were the sounds of nighttime; bugs and frogs and distant traffic, until finally she answered.

"No. I love…"

She didn't get a chance to finish, but it didn't matter. Sasha knew what she would say. Instead of letting her say it, he spun her so quickly she lost her balance and fell against his chest as his lips crashed down over hers. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but it was better than letting her finish that statement. Months of hard work and agonizingly lonely nights would be wasted if she were allowed to say those words.

As fast as his feet could move, Sasha spirited her away to a dark corner of the patio, hidden in shadow and blocked from prying eyes by the brick walls of the house and plants that Steve had no doubt hired a gardener to tend to. He pressed her against the wall, lifting her so that she was level with him. On instinct, her legs locked around his waist and she ground down against him, nearly making his eyes roll back.

"Christ, Payson," he gasped as she raked her nails down his chest and then reached for his shirt. She fisted the material in her hands and smiled wickedly. "Don't rip it."

She pouted and he leaned in to catch her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down firmly before laving it with his tongue. She moaned and writhed against him.

Sasha couldn't keep his hands from wandering, just the same as Payson couldn't help but tear just one button from his shirt. One hand buried itself in her hair, twisting in the golden locks while the other skimmed up beneath her dress, moving along her thigh so he could feel the precise outline of her muscles and the quiver the followed the light touch of his fingers. At her hips, his hand slid around to grasp her firm bottom, squeezing so hard she hissed.

And then he ripped her panties away; an eye for an eye, and all that, although the argument could be made that a single button wasn't the same as an entire article of underwear. She gasped, and cried out in excitement, and Sasha had to kiss her again just to keep her quiet. Not that he minded. Not at all. The way her tongue curled around his was sinful, wicked, and he would gladly drown in her lips.

This would not be the gentle lovemaking of their past, not the way he knew the brick of the Tanner house was biting into her skin even through the top of her dress, and not the way he had her pressed up against a wall, outside, where really anyone who cared enough to look could see. No, this would be hard, fast, and all-consuming. But at least it was something.

"Sasha," Payson breathed as his fingers burned a path over her skin. "Please."

Sasha nearly came right then. She had never sounded so desperate for him, not even in their most passionate moments, of which there were fewer than he'd like. It drove him on like a madman; he pinned her to the wall with his pelvis, rocking against her and delighting in her groans, as he pulled the front of her dress down, and then the lacy cup of her bra. He wondered who she'd worn it for, him or Max? But the moment he had the perfect globe of flesh in his hands, it didn't matter. It was him who saw it, him who got to go inside it, not Max. Sasha's thoughts were cut short by the feel of Payson's hands on him. It brought him back to the moment, here with her, one of the few they would ever get again.

He was right, this time wasn't like the others. It was hard and desperate, and they clung to each other like a ship to its moorings, tossed in a storm. Payson raked her nails down his back and he was sure he wouldn't be able to go shirtless for a good while. He'd missed her passion, her ability to get lost in the moment. He missed her. It wasn't long before she came apart in his arms. Normally he would mourn such a quick finish, but time was a luxury they did not have.

Together, they slumped against the wall, but they didn't stay that way for long. Their desperate coupling didn't lend itself well to cuddling, though Sasha found it more difficult than ever to watch her straighten her clothes.

She was crying again. Probably for a different reason this time.

"We didn't…we made the right choice, didn't we?" she asked through her tears. Sasha allowed himself to reach out and pull her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and playing with the ends of her hair.

"We did," he promised, feeling his own tears burn in his eyes.

Both of their phones rang then and they pulled apart reluctantly to answer. They each listened to the caller for a moment before their eyes met in panic.

"Oh my God, is she okay?"

**Review please!**


	2. Turning Tables

**A/N 1: As with the first chapter, this is a pretty strong T. So be warned.**

Payson couldn't stop shaking. He did that to her, took the absolute control she worked so hard to gain and demolished it, leaving her a quaking mess beneath him. His hands, his fingers, hell his breath, against her skin were enough to make her forget her own name.

"Sasha," she begged, writhing beneath him, arching against him as he tortured her. "Please."

His hand fisted in her hair and he harshly tilted her head, baring her neck to him. She shuddered as his teeth scraped over the vein throbbing beneath her skin and the length of his body pressed against hers. She raked her nails over his back, all the way down to his ass, grabbing him and pulling him hard against her. He didn't make her ask again.

She hissed at the feel of him, at the sensation of being together after so long, and then keened when his fingers found that special spot that drove her crazy.

They were not gentle with each other.

For months, since the Tanner's pre-World's party, their coupling had been frantic, desperate, and rough. There wasn't time for anything else, and even when there was their desire, their need, screamed to be fulfilled NOW.

His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips as he held her in place, driving her towards the cliff she so badly wanted to dive off of. Surging forward, she bit into his shoulder; not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a mark and make him groan. His rhythm faltered as his forehead fell to rest against her collarbone.

"I love you," he panted harshly. Payson felt her heart flutter at the same time as the rest of her insides and it made her breath catch.

"Don't stop," she demanded. She traced her nails back up his back until they were sifting through his hair, and then she tightened her hold, forcing his face to hers and kissing him. She couldn't let herself repeat what he'd just said to her, even though she felt it, and even though she knew he knew that. She couldn't say it only to have him turn her away, again.

Payson felt his kiss all the way in her toes. Every nerve ending in her body was on high alert, thrumming with need. She felt the harsh scratch of his stubble against her chin, the solid wall of his chest crushed to her breasts, the hard rhythm of him inside her. She felt her eyes roll back.

And then she was falling, screaming his name so loudly he had to kiss her to shut her up. The tension drained from her body, leaving her pleasantly limp as Sasha collapsed against her, his face buried in her chest. She toyed with the fine hair at the nape of his neck, shivering as the heat they'd created fell away.

She waited for him to get up, to walk away and imply that it would be best if she went home. But instead, he pulled the sheets up over their sweat-slicked bodies and curled himself around her.

As she drifted off, she smiled.

#

Payson woke up pleasantly numb. She stretched, smiling at the ache in her muscles and between her legs, and then rolled over to reach for him.

He wasn't there. He was in a chair next to the bed, slowing sipping a Scotch, his self-flagellation drink of choice. Her heart sank.

"The shower is yours," he said softly, his voice hoarse.

She got up without answering and made her way to the bathroom, turning on the water as hot as it would go. As she stepped under the scalding hot spray, she let her tears break free.

They had decided long ago that it was better to stay away from each other. As heartbreaking as it had been, they had ended their relationship when Sasha came back from Romania. But love was never that simple, and neither was the magnetic attraction they shared. Payson could barely meet his eyes without a fire for him starting inside her, one that made her want to crawl out of her own skin, and it only got worse the more platonic they tried to be. They could make it a week, sometimes two (their record was four), until it was too much for either of them to bear and they came together like a summer storm; blinding, violent, and all-too brief.

Sasha would tell her he loved her, like he had not two hours ago, and then when it was over he would talk about what a mistake it was, how they needed to be better, do better. They need to stay away from each other. Sometimes, he allowed himself to sleep beside her, but then it was almost worse than if he hadn't, like her perfect dream was being ripped away. It was enough to give her whiplash.

After Payson had cried out her frustrations and washed him from her body, she wrapped one of his large white towels around herself and stepped back into the bedroom. He was in the same position as when she'd left him; forearms on his thighs, Scotch hovering halfway between his lips and his lap. He was wearing just his black boxer-briefs, and Payson had to fight to keep from staring.

She turned to the mirror hanging above his bureau and pulled a comb through her hair. As she did, she watched his reflection over her shoulder. He looked tired, worn. She did that to him.

"I can't do this anymore," she said quietly, watching for his reaction. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

"What?"

"This," she repeated, waving vaguely between them. "I can't."

Sasha sat back, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a generous swallow. She knew he was surprised, even though he said the same thing every time they were together. She was just beating him to the punch.

"Payson…"

"Do you know what it's like?" Payson asked. "Being with you but not being with you? I'm not the kind of girl who can do this, Sasha."

"We never should have started this to begin with," he sighed. Payson felt anger flare inside her and she tossed the comb down on the top of the bureau with a sharp smack.

"I didn't see you trying all that hard to resist," she snapped. Sasha's eyes darkened. He stood up and set his glass down, both with deliberate slowness. Then he stalked across the room, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

He trapped her there, against the bureau, his chest pressing against her back until she was leaning forward with the pressure. One arm snaked around her waist while the other gathered her damp hair, pulling it over one shoulder.

"I used every ounce of strength I had to resist you," he growled in her ear, biting down on her earlobe before trailing his lips down her neck to her shoulder.

"Then clearly you don't have much," she hissed. His hold on her tightened and she spun, pushing him away.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" he shouted, stumbling back a few steps. Payson ground her teeth together against the tears gathering in her eyes. "I love you, damn it, and I want you, but I can't have you."

"You have me all the time," she reminded him. He glared.

"I don't have the part of you that I want."

"You have a part of me that no one else ever will."

For a moment they were silent, staring at each other and daring the other to break first. It wouldn't be Payson.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered.

"For what?"

"For doing this to you. For dragging you down into this."

Payson shrieked in rage, reaching out and striking him on the chest. He didn't even wince.

"Stop it! Do you know how it makes me feel when you say that? When you say that what we're doing is bad and wrong, and disgusting? It makes _me_ feel bad, and wrong, and disgusting. Like I'm your dirty little secret, the addiction you can't kick," Payson cried, tears clogging her throat and spilling down her cheeks. As quickly as she could she threw on her clothes, not bothering with her underwear, and moved to leave.

When she passed him, he grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her. She could feel the charge leap between them, as it always did, but she resisted the urge to fling herself into his arms.

"You are the best, most beautiful thing in my life, Payson," he said forcefully. Payson could hear the "but" in his voice. Instead of letting him say it, she turned quickly, taking his face in her hands and surging up to make her lips meet his. She kissed him deeply, letting herself enjoy it and knowing it was the last one.

"But every time you kiss me back, you hate yourself a little more," she whispered as she pulled away. She stepped past him and paused one more time. "I don't need these mind games this close to the Olympics. What we had is over. You're my coach, and nothing more."

As Payson walked out, Sasha Belov dissolved into tears and she fought them every step of the way. And they did that to each other.

**A/N 2: So many people asked for there to be more than just one chapter of Closing the Distance, so I've decided to make it a 3-shot. There will be one more chapter after this. Also, this chapter was inspired by the song "Turning Tables" by Adele from her album 21. Give it a listen. ALSO...review please!**


	3. New Beginnings

**A/N: I know I owe you all chapter 12 of WYHWT, and I'm hoping to have it up by tomorrow night, but the right moment for this chapter just hit me and I had to do it! So this is the last chapter in this little 3-shot universe. Enjoy! And if you haven't had a chance to check out Chapter 11 of WYHWT, do it! **

The post-Olympic party was in full swing. Red, white, and blue streamers hung from the rafters of the Tanner house while what felt like hundreds of well-wishers circulated among the Olympic Team. Payson wanted no part of it.

She kept telling herself that she should feel happier than she did; after all she had gotten everything she'd ever wanted in life. Six Olympic gold medals, an astonishing feat. The press was comparing her to Michael Phelps, her phone was ringing off the hook with companies begging for multi-million dollar endorsement deals, and she had been offered full scholarships to six of America's best universities. She should have been elated.

She wasn't. It all felt empty, hollow, to her.

"Sweetie, Sasha just got here, don't you want to go say hello?" Kim asked, appearing at Payson's side.

"No," she answered tersely.

"Pay, he's leaving soon and you don't know when you'll see him again," Kim pressed. Like Payson needed to be reminded. She was the first one to know that Sasha planned on leaving after the Olympics, probably because she was to blame. Not two months after their final split, he'd called her into his office and bluntly told her his plans. She had tried not to think about it after that.

"I know that, Mom," Payson snapped. Immediately regret filled her. Kim didn't deserve to bear the brunt of Payson's frustration, but Payson was finding it difficult to keep her stoic mask in place.

"Payson, I know you're having a hard time with retiring and all the uncertainty, but there is no need to speak to me that way. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Payson said sincerely. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Say goodbye to Sasha tonight, you'll regret it the rest of your life if you don't."

Payson watched as her mom walked away, wondering what Kim would think if she knew what had gone on between them, and that as far as the both of them were concerned they had already said their goodbyes. She wasn't interested in reopening old wounds, not when it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from begging him to forget what she'd said.

"Payson! How about a picture of you and the man who got you where you are?" Payson cursed Steve Tanner for opening the party to journalists, and then cursed the journalists for their interest in seeing her and Sasha together in print.

Taking a long sip of her Champaign, Payson plastered a tight smile on her face and tried to cross the room as gracefully as she could. She watched Sasha carefully as she approached, waiting to see what his reaction would be. She could see the tension in his jaw and in his shoulder, the way he held himself just a little bit closed off. He drained the rest of his Scotch, which had been half full, and handed his glass to a passing waiter before offering his hand to Payson. They were both very good at pretending everything was fine.

At the touch of their fingers, Payson gasped and started to pull her hand back but Sasha was faster, closing his fingers around hers so that the journalist wouldn't notice the tension they both felt.

"Have anything to say to Sasha, post win, Payson?" the journalist asked. He positioned them so that Payson was pressed into Sasha's side, his arm around her waist and his hand low on her hip. His fingers dug in firmly and she fought a wince.

"I wouldn't be where I am now, if it weren't for Sasha Belov," Payson said sweetly. The way Sasha's shoulders tensed even more beneath her hand gave away what he thought her words meant. He thought she meant he broke her, ruined her. Maybe she did. She wasn't sure anymore.

"And Sasha? A response?" Payson heard the low growl in his chest, but she didn't think anyone else did.

"Payson is a remarkable young woman with a very bright future ahead of her." Sasha looked down at her, their eyes meeting for the first time since their split, at least outside of actual gymnastics. Payson felt her breath catch at the intensity in his gaze, the pain that lingered there. "It was an honor coaching you."

No one listening missed the hitch in his words, or the way his eyes misted over with tears, but they all chalked it up to the emotion surrounding the Games. Payson knew better.

As soon as the photographer released them, Payson twisted out of Sasha's arms, nearly shoving him in her rush to be as far from him as possible. She could put on a good show for the cameras, but being around him was overwhelming, touching him was enough to break her completely. She needed space, and air, neither of which was easy to find at the Tanner house during a party.

She escaped to the back patio, and fought the memory of the last time she'd sought refuge there during a Tanner party. It didn't work. She could almost feel the brick biting into her back, his hands on her thighs, his breath on her neck. It made her shiver.

"Cold?"

She cursed him, not for the first time. She felt his sport coat settle over her shoulders and she couldn't help but breath in deeply, smiling at the scent of cedar that brought up even more memories. The smile quickly fell away again when she felt him close the distance between them, his chest nearly brushing her back.

"Thank you," she whispered, even though she hadn't been cold.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Sasha said, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets.

"I know," she replied. There was a beat of silence between them, filled with questions neither wanted to ask.

"Were you going to say goodbye?" Sasha asked, his voice rough with emotion. Payson squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, not trusting her voice. "Do you want to know where I'm going?"

Again, Payson shook her head. If she knew where he were planning to go, she might follow him.

"Do you hate me that much, Payson? So much that you want to completely cut me out of your life?" His voice was sad, but anger lingered around the edges of his words. Payson started to turn towards him, but figured it was safer to keep her back to him.

"I do _not_ hate you, Sasha."

"Then what? You're just indifferent?" Payson snorted, the thought of her ever being indifferent to Sasha was laughable. "Look at me, damn it!"

Payson turned to look at him. His face, twisted into such anguish, nearly broke her heart. She ached to reach out and touch him.

"I'm not indifferent to you, either," she promised. Sasha's jaw clenched.

"Then what?"

Payson let the silence reign again, hoping it would answer for her, but the storm in Sasha's eyes didn't calm with understanding and she knew she would have to say it.

"I thought we'd said our goodbyes," she said, avoiding telling him the real reason why for as long as possible. His eyes narrowed and she felt anger bloom through her chest, spreading through her body like a wave. "Fine, I still love you! Is that what you wanted to hear? That every time I have to look at you I want to die because it hurts so badly? And that saying goodbye would have been more than I could bear? Is that what you want to hear?"

Sasha fell silent, and for a moment she wondered if he was truly speechless for the first time since she'd known him. She turned away from him again, unable to keep looking at him. After a few moments she felt his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs lightly stroking her skin. At the feel of his skin against her, the tender, intimate touch after so long, she burst into tears unable to keep them at bay any longer.

"I know how you feel," he whispered into her hair. She felt his lips against her temple, pressing a kiss there. "I miss you."

"You see me every day," Payson whimpered, sounding lame to her own ears.

"You know that isn't what I meant," he chastised lightly. Payson nodded. She knew.

Sasha's hands skimmed down her arms before twining his fingers through hers and pulling both their arms up to wrap around her waist. She instinctively leaned into him, just slightly. Just enough to know that he was there, and this was real. It wasn't one of the hundred or so fantasies she'd had where he just held her and there was no anger, no tension, no regret.

They stood like that for endless minutes, just soaking in the feel of each other. Payson was sure that this was their goodbye.

"I'm going back to London," Sasha whispered.

"Why?" she asked. His lips brushed over the shell of her ear.

"Nicolai is retiring, he asked me to take over his gym." Payson nodded. It made sense to her. The last time that Sasha had run away, he'd gone to Romania because no one would look for him there. He wasn't hiding this time, not really anyway. "What are your plans?"

"I don't have any. Decisions need to be made soon I guess, but for now I'm just taking it one day at a time," Payson explained. She had forgotten how good it was to just talk to Sasha. More than the physical intimacy, she missed the emotional intimacy, staying up until all hours just talking and laughing. She'd forgotten that their relationship had once held a lightness to it, one that can only appear when both parties are completely content.

"You could come with me," Sasha suggested, his hold on her tightening just a bit. Payson stiffened in his arms.

"We broke up for a reason, Sasha. Remember?" She pressed. Sasha nodded.

"More than one, even. But those reasons no longer stand in our way. I've had a lot of time to think, Payson, time to realize what life without you would be like, and that's no life that I want," Sasha insisted. Payson felt butterflies in her stomach.

"I'm still a decade younger than you," she whispered, afraid that if she reminded him he might change his mind.

"And? These days that isn't such a big number," Sasha said, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"What about what people will say?" Sasha took a deep breath and blew it out slowly; Payson could feel the heat of it across her skin.

"I never cared what people would say for my sake, Payson. I've been the subject of a scandal or two in my time, it was you and your career I worried for. Come with me. We can move to London and start over."

Starting over. A fresh start, a clean slate, it sounded like Heaven to Payson. She wasn't so naïve as to think their relationship would be without its problems, there was still a lot of hurt to resolve, but she knew that even after months of not being together they both still loved each other. That was enough for her.

She turned in Sasha's arms, looping her arms around her neck and pulling herself flush against his body.

"Start over," she echoed. She leaned in for a kiss, smiling against his lips.

"So you'll come?" Sasha asked, pulling back just enough to answer the question.

"I'll come." Sasha kissed her again, holding her tightly. She didn't ever want him to let go.

#

"Did you say goodbye to Sasha?" Kim asked as the party started to wind down. Payson watched him across the room, saying his goodbyes to Kaylie and Lauren. They had decided not to make a scene; they would tell her parents after the party, and she would tell Kaylie and Lauren later, much later. It was likely to stir up drama, and Payson wanted just a few hours to enjoy the euphoria of a future together before reality came storming in.

"Not quite," Payson replied, a smile teasing at the corner of her lips. Sasha took a glass of Champaign from a passing waiter and gently tapped the side of the glass, raising it in a toast.

"To my gymnasts who made their country, and their coach, so unbelievably proud in London; this phase of your lives is over, but you all have wonderful things ahead." Sasha's eyes locked with Payson's and he smiled. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings."

**Review!**


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